


Director's Cut

by RosaleenBan



Category: Queer as Folk (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaleenBan/pseuds/RosaleenBan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Vince has just finished directing his first major film, and his producer has asked him to work with Stuart, their PR man, to make sure the promotion is perfect. The boys knew each other as teens, but were separated after only a few years together. Neither of them has the chance to develop the hardness, deceit, and the bitterness that comes from living with the one thing they want but can’t have - each other - so their later meeting is much easier and more honest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Director's Cut

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a different take on a different AU I wrote, "Meet You There," which will may or may not be posted to this archive soon. It was written for a QAF-UK forum in Dec 2006, so anyone familiar with older QAF fic may remember it from then. I'm cross-posting it here after cleaning up a few issues, because I don't know if it's available anywhere else online anymore.

“Mr. Roberts?” Vince asked, walking into the producer’s office. His secretary had told him that the producer wanted to see him, but he wasn’t sure what for, since everything was on schedule for the movie.

“Cameron. I’d prefer it if you called me by my first name,” he said. “Hello, Vince. Have a seat. How’s post-production going? Donnie in editing seems pleased.”

“Alright,” Vince told him. “They don’t really need me around much anymore - they’re just finishing the last of it. It should be done by the end of the week.”

“Good,” Cameron told him with a smile. He walked around his desk and sat on it in front of Vince’s chair. “We’re starting to work on the major promotion this month, and I want you to work with our PR man on the final trailers.”

“Of course,” Vince said, though he was a bit startled - this was his first time directing a major film, and he hadn’t known that directors work directly on PR. “I’d be glad to have a hand in it - the more I can do, the better,” he said, not half chuffed to have a bit more control over his baby. Not that he didn’t trust the rest of the production team - he just wanted to make sure everything was right.

“Good. I like to have my directors as involved in promotion as possible. After all, you know the movie best, right?” Cameron picked up a business card from his desk and handed it to Vince. As he did so, he leaned down, invading his personal space. “I was thinking of celebrating the imminent completion of the movie with dinner tonight at the French Roast Café. Care to join me?”

“Sorry. Can’t,” Vince said, leaning back in his chair as he pulled away from Cameron. Not that the man wasn’t attractive with that Australian accent and all, but he was old, and boring, and not Vince’s type at all. He still didn’t seem to get that. Vince looked at Cameron wide eyed and innocent as he lied. “Me mum and I have plans tonight - tea at hers, with all the family. It’s an all night affair. You know how it is with families; if I’m not there, they’re likely to come track me down. Another time, yeah?”

Cameron leaned back, almost slumping onto the desk. However, his voice stayed cool and confident. “I’ll hold you to that, Vince.” Suddenly he straightened up, all business again. “Call Mr. Jones today and set up a meeting for this week. He should be expecting you. And don’t mind his demeanor - the man’s a bastard, but he’s the best at what he does.”

“Will do, Mr. Roberts,” Vince said with a nod. He stood up and backed out of the room. “Got to go - I’ll make this call, then I have to check in with editing again before I leave for the day.”

“I’ll see you later, then,” Cameron said. “Let me know when the editing’s done.”

“Will do,” Vince said. He turned and walked out of the office.

His mobile was already in hand by the time he looked down at the business card and saw the name. “ _Stuart Jones, Director of Accounts, Thrive Advertising, London.”_

Stuart Jones. There was a name Vince hadn’t seen in a long time, though he thought about him often enough. Vince wondered briefly if this Stuart Jones was the same as the one he had known as a lad - the Irish boy with the blue eyes and the bad reputation, even at fifteen. Cameron had said he was a bastard - it could be him.

Then again, Vince doubted he was that lucky. He hadn’t half been in love with Stuart before the other boy had moved back to Dublin, and the prospect of working with him was too good. No, there were plenty of people named Stuart Jones - this was just one more. And even if it was the same one, what were the odds that he would even remember?

...

“So Cameron - once he’s done trying to chat me up - gave me this card,” Vince said, holding out the business card. He had already made an appointment with Stuart at the Thrive Manchester office for the next afternoon, and he was still trying to figure out whether or not it was the same person he had known as a lad.

“Does he ever stop?” Alex asked, looking at the card. “You’d think after the first dozen times or so, a man would get the hint.”

“You’d think,” Vince agreed.

“Here, let me see that,” Hazel said, taking the card from Alex. “Stuart Jones, Director of Accounts.” She looked up at Vince. “Stuart Jones, love of your life, Stuart Jones?”

“He’s not the love of my life,” Vince protested. “And no, I don’t know if it’s the same man or not.”

“It’s been fourteen years since you saw him, and you’re still not over him. If that’s not the love of your life, I’d like to know what is.” Hazel looked down at the card again. “Well, you’ll just have to see at your meeting tomorrow. Then call me and tell me all about it.” She looked up at Vince with a wicked, infectious grin.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Alex said, putting up two hands to silence the table. When he had Vince and Hazel’s complete attention, he asked, “Now. What are we talking about here? I’ve never heard of a Stuart Jones, much less a love of your life! Who is this?”

“Stuart Jones - the one I know, at least - was my best mate when we were lads. I haven’t seen him since he moved to Dublin when we were just sixteen, and I don’t know if this is the same man or not,” Vince explained.

“Here’s to hoping though,” Hazel said, raising here pint in a toast. “You know, even I still miss him. He was fun.”

“He was trouble,” Vince grinned.

“Don’t I know it,” Hazel agreed. She leaned over to talk to Alex softly. “First time I met the lad, he and Vince were both fourteen, drunk out of their heads. He had convinced Vince to raid my liquor cabinet - as if I wouldn’t notice! They both came out to me, first Stuart, and then Vince.” She shook her head, motioning with her fag dramatically. “What could I do? I couldn’t very well punish them. So I gave them each a hug and a glass of water and sent them off to bed.”

Vince laughed ruefully. “I think the headaches in the morning were more than enough punishment. That was my first ever hangover.”

“Not the last, especially not with the Irish bastard around,” Hazel said.

“Now, now. He wasn’t that bad,” Vince said. “He was always defending me at school, me being such an anorak and all. I always had a bully after me, and Stuart was right there, taking them all down. Fought like a devil, he did!”

“Always shagging, too, if I remember right,” Hazel reminded him.

“Well, he was bloody gorgeous,” Vince said. “Most handsome man on the Street back then, and still in school. We shouldn’t have even been down there, but there he was, shagging left and right. No one ever turned him down.”

“I think I ought to meet this Stuart Jones,” Alex said. “Could use a man like that around.”

“Yeah, right,” Vince said. “No one could ever tie him down - he didn’t even do repeats back then, never mind boyfriends. Said there was too much talent - not enough time to have any of them more than once.”

“One question,” Alex said. “Why don’t you two talk anymore?”

“Like I said, Stuart moved to Dublin when we were sixteen,” Vince told him. “We stayed in touch for a while, but eventually we drifted apart. His letters and calls were more and more infrequent, and eventually he just seemed to forget about me altogether.” He laughed humorlessly at himself, realizing how caught up he was in the memory of such an old mate. “It’s probably not even the same Stuart Jones. There must be a hundred Stuart Joneses in England alone. I doubt I’d be working with the same one who was my mate when we were lads.”

“It could be, though. Could you imagine?” Alex squealed. “How perfect! After all these years, a chance reunion with the man you’ve always been in love with. How romantic.”

“I haven’t ‘always been in love’ with him,” Vince protested.

“Right,” Alex agreed sarcastically. “You didn’t see how much your face just lit up, talking about him. Take it from a girl who knows how it feels - you’ve got it bad.”

Hazel patted Vince’s hand. “’Fraid he’s right, kiddo,” she said. “How about you go up and buy us all another round - it’ll make you feel better,” she suggested.

Vince smiled at his mother. “You just want me to buy you another drink.”

“What else is a successful son for?” Hazel asked.

“Give your mum a tenner and come on,” Alex said, standing up. “We’re off to Babylon. Time to dance. That’ll get your mind off Stuart Jones.”

 “Could do,” Vince agreed. “You want a ride home, then, or are you coming with us?” he asked Hazel, knowing she wouldn’t stay at the pub alone.

She pouted at him. “Home I suppose. Nothing for me at those clubs, not without Bernie there to keep me company.”

“I’ll give you a ride,” Vince said, collecting his jacket and keys.

“Well, I’m off now,” Alex said. “I’ll meet you at Babylon, unless of course I’ve copped off by then.”

“Yeah, right,” Vince teased his friend.

“You’re just jealous,” Alex said, his pout reminiscent of Hazel’s. “Big movie director you are, and you still aren’t copping off.”

Vince smiled and kissed Alex on the cheek. This was an old line of teasing, and he wouldn’t rise to it tonight. “I’ll see you later then.”

He led Hazel to his Audi A4 - a gift to himself upon getting his first big directing contract - and held the door as she got into the passenger seat. She was relatively quiet for a few long moments as Vince situated himself and began to drive.

“You know, it would be nice if it were your Stuart you were working with,” Hazel said finally. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I miss the boy. He was good for you.”

“I thought you said he was a bastard,” Vince teased, knowing his mum had loved Stuart as one of his own.

“He was,” Hazel agreed. “But he made things interesting. And I haven’t ever seen you as happy as you were when you were with him.”

“Mum, stop,” Vince pleaded. He’d had enough of hearing about how in love he was with Stuart Jones for one night.

“Alright, love,” Hazel said as Vince pulled up to her house. “But if it is our Stuart, make sure you invite him to tea on Saturday. And don’t take no for an answer.”

“Will do,” Vince said. He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek, then watched to make sure she got into her house safely.

As he drove back to Canal Street, he continued to think of his old mate. It would be nice to see him again, if it were him - and if he remembered their two years as best friends.

Vince shook his head, once again trying to forget the idea. It wouldn’t be the same person - there was no way he would be working with Stuart after so long. It would be too coincidental. And even if he were, he reminded himself yet again, Stuart wouldn’t remember him. After all, Stuart had stopped writing or calling long ago. There was no reason to get himself worked up over nothing.

Vince parked just off Canal Street and walked to Babylon briskly. Alex was right; he needed a dance to clear his head. Hopefully Alex hadn’t copped off yet; dancing with his current best mate should do the trick.

...

Stuart looked down on his desk to review the proofs Sandra had given him this morning. _The Gods Themselves_ \- Stuart had to admit, even the unfinished version of the movie that he had seen was a brilliant adaptation of Asimov’s book. And for once the art department hadn’t done a bad job with his proposals.

It had been an easy assignment. Stuart remembered reading the book a long time ago; when his best mate - his only mate at the time - had given it to him. Vince had been so passionate about the thing, Stuart couldn’t help but to love it. He couldn’t find himself disliking anything that put that kind of spark in Vince’s eyes. Even now, the book - and the movie - reminded him of the boy he was still more than a bit in love with. Making other people fall in love with it before seeing it almost came naturally.

Odd, really, that he was back in Manchester of all places, to work on the project. He hadn’t been to Manchester in years, and now it was the passion of that same mate that called him back. Maybe he should look up the Tylers while he was here, see if they even remembered him. He idly wondered if Hazel still lived in the same house. He missed her almost as much as her son, her being more of a mother than his own, once upon a time.

“Mr. Jones?” Sandra’s voice interrupted his reverie via intercom. Someone important must be out there with her; she never called him by his last name otherwise. “A Mr. Vincent Tyler of Morningstar Films, the director of _The Gods Themselves_ , is here to see you.”

Vincent Tyler? Why hadn’t anyone told him the name of the director before - he was sure he wouldn’t have forgotten that, even if he hadn’t been paying attention. There was no doubt in his mind that this _had_ to be his Vince - who else could have the passion to adapt that story so well to film?

Stuart stood up and walked around his desk to lean in front of it. He smoothed his charcoal Armani suit - it looked fabulous with the red shirt under it - and took a deep calming breath before answering his PA over the intercom. “Send him in, Sandra. Thanks.”

He couldn’t help but to smile when he saw Vince walk in, more handsome than Stuart remembered in chocolate dress pants and a dark blue fitted jumper, but still the same Vince Tyler as he remembered. Still incredibly sexy and seemingly unaware of it.

“Vince-fucking-Tyler,” Stuart said enthusiastically, pushing away from the desk to embrace his old friend. “How are you? Still a bloody anorak I see.”

Vince laughed as he embraced Stuart, seeming a bit surprised. “Good, ta. And you? Still the same bastard?”

“What would be the fun in changing that?” Stuart asked, pulling back to look at Vince again. “How’s Hazel?”

“She’s good. Still the same loon - she goes down to the street with me and my mates almost nightly now; I think half the blokes know her better than they do me. She’ll be glad to hear you asked after her.”

“Don’t you dare tell her that,” Stuart said. “She might get ideas that I’ve changed, and I’m going to be nice to her.”

Vince still seemed to see right through him, just like he always had. He gave Stuart an indulgent, knowing smile, almost reminding him that he had always been nice to Hazel, and if he saw her, he wouldn’t stop now. “We do tea at her house on Saturdays - if you’re going to be in Manchester still, you’re more than welcome to come.”

“I’ll be here for at least a month or so,” Stuart told him. “Does she still live at the same place?”

“Yeah,” Vince said. “Tea’s at four, but you can come earlier. We tend to use the whole weekend as one long social event there.”

“I’ll be there,” Stuart said as he led Vince back to the desk to show him the proofs, one hand on his arm. “We should get this done now, but I’d like to take you to dinner.” He winked at his friend. “On Thrive. It’s what we’re supposed to do with the important clients.”

“Could do,” Vince said. “After all, if you have to do it for work, who am I to argue?”

Stuart felt the strongest urge to lean in and kiss his old friend. Only at the last moment did he catch himself and hold back, taking a seat behind his desk instead. He took a long moment to look over Vincent Tyler, wondering if it could be true, that he was still so fatally attracted to the man after all this time.

Now, he realized, he was old enough to do something about it. Sixteen years ago they were too young, and he wasn’t anywhere near ready to understand, much less admit, his feelings for his friend. Now, maybe, he had the time and space to grow up just a bit.

He smiled to himself and picked up the first proof to hand to Vince. Work now. They would play later.

...

Vince couldn’t seem to stop smiling through his whole meeting with Stuart. Stuart Jones - his Stuart Jones - was his PR man, and he was absolutely brill, too. Vince couldn’t think of anything but the most minor of changes to be made to any of the proofs.

And now they were sitting in a secluded seat at the French Roast Café, the same posh restaurant Cameron had wanted to take him to the night before, eating their dinners. Dinner with Stuart, in a fancy restaurant - this had been the beginning of more than one of his favorite fantasies, as a lad and even now. Of course all of them ended in absolutely gratuitous sex, something he no longer indulged in casually, but he could wait for the relationship, if it ever came.

He knew he was getting ahead of himself, and he pushed the thought from his head. It was enough that he was here now, with Stuart. Besides, he remembered Stuart’s ideas on love and boyfriends.

“What?” Stuart asked. Vince realized his friend was staring at him oddly.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Vince asked.

“You just got silent and started smiling like a mong after the waiter brought out our food,” Stuart informed him. He smiled wickedly, showing that perfect line of white teeth. “You twat, listening to that old lady nattering in your head still?”

“There’s no old lady in my head!” Vince protested. He had all but forgotten that old line of teasing, and he was surprised that Stuart had remembered it. Though, as he now recalled, Stuart had only teased him about that when he was worrying too much.

“So what do you do with yourself when you’re not directing major motion pictures?” Stuart asked. “Still go down to Canal Street?”

“Almost every night,” Vince admitted.

“Is it still the same?”

“Some places are still there,” Vince told him. “Via Fosse never changes, and Babylon is still the best place on the street for dancing. Most of the others have been replaced, but you couldn’t tell but for their names.”

“And the talent?” Stuart asked lasciviously. Some things would never change, Vince realized.

“My mate Alex tells me it’s fabulous, but nothing like the London scene,” Vince said, ducking his head a bit. He knew Stuart was going to take the piss, but he couldn’t lie to the other man.

“Your mate?” Stuart asked incredulously. “And what about you then? Still too scared to start copping off?”

“No,” Vince said definitively. He felt himself blushing and his voice softened. “I just don’t tend to cop off much. I’d rather know a bloke first. Do the boyfriend thing, yeah?”

Stuart smiled at him mockingly. “You are so straight, Vince,” he said, shaking his head. “Always were - you wanted the house, the husband, the kids - a straight man who fucks men.”

Somehow, the words weren’t harsh at all; instead, they became something of a joke. “And you, then? Still a slut?” Vince asked in the same tone. “Or have you finally settled down with a family?”

“Both,” Stuart told him. Vince raised his eyebrow in askance, waiting for Stuart to elaborate. “Still shagging, of course. Couldn’t give that up. But I’ve a son, now, too - Alfie. His mums are lesbians, but I share custody with them.”

“A son?!” Vince was stunned. Stuart was the last person he’d have figured for a father, what with how he got along with his own family and all. “Do you have a picture?”

“You are the only man I know who actually asks to see baby pictures.” Stuart laughed at him. Still, he reached into his coat pocket for his wallet to open and hand to Vince.

Vince took it and looked at the little boy in the picture. He was still a babe - no more than a year old - but Vince could already see Stuart’s pronounced features in his eyes and jaw. “He looks just like you,” Vince said, giving the wallet back.  “I’d like to meet him.”

Vince caught himself and bit his lip, feeling his cheeks warm even more. He didn’t want to force a renewed friendship on Stuart, especially since Stuart was the one who cut off their contact so long ago. “Not meaning that - well, if you want.”

Stuart shook his head. “You are such a twat,” he said. “Of course I want you to meet my son. You and Hazel both. You’ll both be in London for the premiere, right? You can meet him then.”

“Yeah,” Vince said, regaining some confidence. “Could do.”

“And you?” Stuart asked. “Settled down with a house and boyfriend yet?”

Vince shook his head. “No. I’ve been single for some time - too long, really. None of them seem to last, though.”

 _None of them measure up,_ Vince thought. He hadn’t been conscious of it at the time, but sitting here with Stuart, he realized he had always been comparing his boyfriends to his old best mate, and none of them measured up by half.

It might have been his over-eager imagination, but Vince could have sworn he saw Stuart smile at his response.

Vince looked down at the table and realized both their plates were empty. By the time he looked up, Stuart had called the waiter over and was giving him his company card.

“I have to go,” Stuart said, glancing at his watch, “but maybe tomorrow night we can get drinks on Canal Street?”

“Sure,” Vince agreed. “Hazel will be out, too. It’ll be great.”

Stuart smiled at him. “Alright then, let’s go.” He signed for the bill and led Vince out of the restaurant. Vince followed happily. He just had dinner with Stuart, and would be seeing him again. That alone was enough to make his night.

...

Stuart walked up to the house slowly, not quite sure of the welcome he would receive. He took a deep breath when he reached the door, then knocked on it loudly.

“Just a minute!” Hazel screamed from inside.

Stuart bit his thumb nervously and waited for her to get to the door. A moment later, she opened it and stopped dead in her tracks, staring at him as a smile grew on her face.

“Well, hello, stranger,” she said. She pulled him into a tight embrace.

Stuart returned it happily. He had forgotten how much he missed his surrogate mother until he saw her standing in her doorway, all crazy red hair and bright smile. When he finally pulled away, she reached up to hit him upside the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” he asked.

“You losing touch. What, did you think we wouldn’t care if we didn’t hear from you? It broke my poor boy’s heart,” she told him sternly. Then her demeanor softened. “Come on in then. Have a cuppa.”

Stuart followed her into the kitchen and watched as she put on the water for tea.

“And what have you been doing with yourself, then, Mr. Jones? It must be good, if you were too busy to even write to us here.”

“Nothing all that interesting,” Stuart told her.

“Ha,” she said. “I’m sure. I hear you’re Director of Accounts, in Thrive London. That must be interesting.”

“It’s shite,” Stuart said. “Just something to do until I start my own firm.”

“London, though. The scene must be fabulous there. You have the whole huge world you were always talking about, I’m sure,” she said. Stuart could tell she was mocking him.

“I didn’t mean to loose touch for so long,” Stuart admitted. “Just - what could I do? We were just lads - it was too much to have him and me already.”

“And so you lost touch?” Hazel asked. “Why didn’t you ever come back - it’s not like he would have been hard to track down, had you tried.”

“Don’t know,” Stuart admitted. “Didn’t know how Vince would take it. We were so young when I left - what would he think of me just showing up? What if he had a partner, a family?”

“Stuart Jones,” Hazel said affectionately, “I thought the two of you were just mates.” She poured them each a cup of tea and handed one to Stuart.

“That’s shite and you know it. But how do you handle meeting the love of your life at fourteen?”

“Well, at least you’re willing to admit it,” Hazel said. “I never thought I’d see the day, though. The great Stuart Alan Jones, admitting to love just like us mortals. And so freely, too. What was it you said when you were a lad? I believe it was something along the lines of love is for straights.”

“And lesbians,” Stuart reminded her with a smile. “I think I’ve grown up a bit since then.”

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Hazel said again with a small sigh, head cocked as she looked at Stuart.

“I’ve had a decade and a half without Vince. I want to hang onto him this time.”

Hazel rewarded him with a warm smile. “Does he know?”

“Course not,” Stuart said. “He’s a twat. Thinks he doesn’t stand a chance dating me.”

“And whose fault is that?” Hazel asked.

Stuart looked down into his tea, chewing his thumbnail again. Finally he asked, “Do I? Have a chance, I mean. Did he forget about me, this whole time?”

Hazel shook her head and put down her tea. “Come on,” she said, standing up. “I’ve something you should see.”

Stuart followed her upstairs to Vince’s old room - still decorated exactly the same. It was as though nothing had changed in all his years of absence.

“There,” she said, gesturing to one of the walls with her cigarette. “He never took a single one down, not even when he was dating all those mongs he seems to attract.”

Stuart looked at the wall and saw a dozen or so pictures hung there, all of him and Vince as lads. Birthdays, Christmases, football games - he remembered each one vividly, as he remembered all his times with Vince. Stuart couldn’t help but smile, looking at them all.

“You’ll be coming out with us tonight?” Hazel asked, deliberately shattering the moment. “I’m sure you’ll want to dance with Vince - it’s been ages.”

“Course I am,” Stuart said. “I haven’t had a shag since I got to Manchester.”

Hazel shook her head. “And you won’t tonight, either - not if you want to be with my Vinnie. He’s grown up, too, since you saw him, and he’s not likely to take you seriously if he sees you copping off.”

“Right,” Stuart said, arrogantly. “He really believes he’s going to stop me from shagging?”

“Not at all. He remembers the truth behind that reputation of yours,” Hazel told him. “That’s why you’ve got to convince him you’re serious.”

“That’s shite,” Stuart pouted.

Hazel shook her head and led him back downstairs. “Come on, then. I’ll make us a proper meal, and we can finish catching up. Vince and Alex won’t be at the pubs for another hour or so; we’ll meet up with them then.”

Stuart followed her to the kitchen, where he could change the subject and talk about Alfie and the lesbians, all of whom he was sure she’d want to meet. He was looking forward to later that night. Hazel was right; it had been ages since he had danced with Vince. He couldn’t wait.

...

Via Fosse was almost exactly as Stuart remembered it. He walked in beside Hazel, seeing the same bar, the same seating, the same dance floor and stage - the only thing that had changed was the clientele.

When they were lads, the Street was still suffering the worst of the epidemic, and there were many more sick or older men. Now, it was as though they were culled, leaving only the young and the healthy looking. It wasn’t something Stuart had ever noticed, even in the extreme American clubs, but walking into this bar, he was suddenly struck by the comparison. Funny, that, how easy it was to forget sometimes.

He pushed the dreary thought out of his head when he saw Vince sitting at a table, back turned to the door. He was sitting at a table with a tall, blond queen who seemed somewhat familiar, and a young man who couldn’t have been in Uni yet.

“Oi, Hazel! Over here!” the blonde called, raising his hand to wave at them.

“That’s Alex,” Hazel told Stuart in a hushed tone, waving back at him. “And the chicken on the right is Nathan. He’s been stalking Vince for a good two months, but he’ll be trying to pull you, too, I’m sure.”

Stuart looked at him and laughed. “Not likely.” Really, he could do better than a child - even a child with a physique like that.

He walked up to Vince and put a hand on his shoulder, making him turn around.

“Stuart!” Vince said in surprise when he saw him. “Didn’t know you would show up here. Thought you would call first, see where we were.”

“He came to see me this afternoon,” Hazel told Vince. “Thought I’d show him the way.”

Stuart took the seat next to Vince, letting Hazel sit between Alex and the Chicken. Before he could say something, he found himself face to face with Alex, who was staring at him inquisitively.

“Is this Stuart Jones, then? THE Stuart Jones?” Alex asked, leaning into Vince’s personal space.

“Yes, it is. Stuart, meet Alexander Perry, and Nathan Maloney. Alex, Nathan, Stuart was a mate of mine when we were lads.”

“The two of you, friends? Did you ever shag? I’d love to see that,” Nathan said eagerly, making Stuart glare.

“That’s none of your business, Chicken,” Alex said snidely. He turned back to Stuart and Vince. “I, however, as the best friend have a right to know, don’t I?”

“We are not talking about this,” Vince said. Stuart watched intently as a blush crept up his face.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Stuart said maliciously. “They could use a good story, couldn’t they? Do you remember Barry Sheen, Vinnie?”

Vince’s face grew bright red at the mention of the motorcyclist’s name. “No, Stuart,” he said desperately. “You get to go home in a couple of months. I, however, have to live with them.”

Stuart wouldn’t really tell the story; that would kill their renewed friendship before it ever began. Instead, Stuart smirked at Vince for a long moment before smiling indulgently. “Alright, another time, then.”

 “No!” Vince said. “No other time. Never.”

Stuart just continued to smile, liking Vince’s reactions to his teasing.

“You are such a bastard,” Vice said finally, smiling at him.

“Fine, have a go,” Stuart said playfully. “And here I was, doing you a favor.”

Stuart relaxed into the conversation, mostly watching Vince’s interactions with his friends and mother. He had changed immensely from the boy Stuart had known - he was more self-confident, and wittier - but Stuart could see the same old Vince there, especially when he was talking to Hazel. He couldn’t help but to be mesmerized by this image of having his best mate there, chatting like they were still lads.

By the time Stuart noticed the hour, it was almost eleven. Hazel had since gone home with Bernie, a boarder at her house who had shown up earlier, and Nathan had gone to play with the other children. Stuart was getting bored. “Where can we dance around here?” Stuart asked Vince at the first pause in the conversation. “It’s been ages since you and I danced.”

 “We could go to Babylon if you like - I don’t think it’s changed in decades. It’s still the best place on the street,” Vince told him.

“Come on then,” Stuart said, standing up. He paused just long enough to make sure the others were following before making his way to the door.

He still remembered the way, of course - this had been the first club he’d ever gone too. Him and Vince, sneaking out at night and lying about their age - it had been absolutely fantastic. There was no way he could forget. So he led them down the street to what was once his favorite club.

As soon as they were inside, he took Vince’s hand and pulled him to the dance floor, no questions asked.

Just like he had expected, Vince followed him willingly. They found a spot on the dance floor and Stuart pulled Vince against him, staking an obvious claim. Tonight, Vince was his. He deserved it after all these years.

Vince pulled a plastic baggie from his jacket and held it up. “Want some?” he asked.

Stuart didn’t have to ask what it was - ecstasy, what else? He smiled and nodded.

Vince took one of the pills from the bag and put it in his mouth, closing his eyes as it dissolved on his tongue. He took the other out and held it out for Stuart.

Instead of taking it with his hand, as Vince expected, Stuart leaned in and licked the pill off Vince’s fingers, taking an extra moment to let his tongue swirl around the digits.

“Behave, Stuart!” Vince told him, though Stuart could see the naughty smile playing in his eyes.

“Dance with me,” Stuart said, putting his arm around Vince’s waist and pulling him in close.

“I love this song!” Vince said when the DJ switched tracks. He pulled away slightly and began dancing energetically.

Stuart couldn’t help but to laugh a little at him. “You twat!”

Vince smiled at him, flashing Stuart impossibly sexy, amused blue eyes. Christ, but those eyes could be used as weapons. One look and the enemy would be at his feet, worshipping him.

“Come on,” Vince laughed. “We’re not in London - no one’s going to tell if you let go a bit.”

Stuart couldn’t help it. He smiled and shook his head, but he started dancing like a twat with Vince. He really didn’t stand much of a chance, did he, what with those blue eyes and all?

Stuart danced with Vince like that until the song morphed into a slow one with a deep, pounding pulse. When Stuart heard it, he grabbed Vince’s hips and pulled them in toward his, grinding against him to the steady, sexual rhythm. Vince put his arms around Stuart’s neck, obviously comfortable with this degree of intimacy.

“It’s mad,” Vince told him. “It’s just like when we were lads - almost like nothing’s changed.”

“Not quite,” Stuart told him, pressing his erection into Vince invitingly. “We’ve grown up a bit since then.”

“Stuart, what are you like?” Vince asked, pushing Stuart away.

Stuart didn’t let him. He held Vince close, but didn’t push the issue. Not yet, at least. Vince was high off his head, and if Stuart were honest, so was he. He wasn’t going to shag Vince like this. Not if he wanted Vince to take him seriously at all.

Instead he danced for a few more songs, then let Vince drag him over to the bar for a bottle of water. Vince had been very convincing when telling him he was not allowed anymore whiskey for the night, because Vince was not going to let him ruin their night.

Stuart pouted and dragged him back to the dance floor, making him dance a while longer before deciding to go back to the hotel for the night. By that time, he was flying high on E.

“I’m off Vince! Coming?”

“Stuart, you’re pissed!” Vince told him, laughing. Vince, apparently, wasn’t doing so bad himself. “Don’t you want to find a shag before we leave?”

“Not tonight!” Stuart told him, grinning like an idiot and not caring. He slung an arm over Vince’s shoulder and started to walk them to the door. “I’ve got all I need for tonight.”

Vince looked at him with an inquisitive stare. “Are you sure you’re the same Stuart Jones I knew when we were lads? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go home without even a wank in the loo.”

“I’m sure,” Stuart said. He smiled at Vince but refused to say anything more.

“We’re calling a cab,” Vince told him when they got outside, taking out his mobile to call. “Neither one of us can drive tonight.”

Stuart had taken a cab from the hotel to Hazel’s, so he let Vince call. He was content to stand outside and watch the scenery as they waited.

“Where are you staying?” Vince asked when the cab pulled up.

For a moment, Stuart was temped to tell Vince he had forgotten the hotel - he was high enough that Vince would believe him - but he thought the better of it. He had a meeting with Vince early in the morning, and all his suits were in the hotel. Besides, they were both high, and even in his state, he knew enough to wait.

He gave the cab driver the hotel name and address as he slipped into the back seat. After giving his own address, which Stuart was too high to actually catch, Vince slipped in beside Stuart.

Stuart allowed himself the luxury of putting an arm around Vince and pulling him close. He gave him a sloppy kiss on the temple.

“God, Stuart!” Vince laughed, wiping his face. He shook his head and turned to make eye contact. “I’m glad you’re here, you know,” he said. “I missed you.”

“You’re off your head,” Stuart reminded him, albeit more gently than he was used to.

Vince grinned manically. “I still missed you.”

Stuart wanted to kiss Vince right there and invite him back to the hotel room. But then Vince started giggling like a little kid, and pointing to the straights walking outside the cab, nattering on about something or other. Stuart remembered, with a giggle of his own, just how high they both were.

He got out of the cab and headed up to his room alone.

...

The next morning, Vince met Stuart in his office bright and early. Much too early. It had been a long time since he had been out that late without sleeping until at least noon the next day.

Fortunately, he wasn’t asked to do much more than smile and admire Stuart until just after noon when Stuart finished his presentation on his campaign for the movie to Cameron and the other producers. Cameron had wanted Vince there for further input, but Stuart had done just fine on his own, and Vince wasn’t called on for more than the occasional comment or two about the actors or specific plot points.

Instead, Vince had spent the majority of his time watching Stuart, admiring his innate sensual energy, and the ease with which he performed for his audience. Stuart had grown up immensely since they were boys, Vince realized - he was so comfortable with himself, so much more ready to smile than he was when they were rebellious teens. Of course, he had always had some of that, but he seemed to have relaxed into it, which was something Vince had never expected. Relaxed was never a word Vince would use to describe his old mate.

Vince couldn’t help but to blush when he realized that most of those easy smiles were directed not at the producers, but at Vince. Stuart seemed to find every excuse possible to look in Vince’s direction, always making eye contact and almost always smiling at him. When he did, Vince couldn’t resist answering that smile with his own. Brilliant midnight blue eyes almost laughing at him - who could resist, truly?

Vince was still pondering the changes he saw as Stuart thanked the producers for their time and started to pack up his proofs.

“Where is it this time?” Stuart asked, drawing Vince back into the present.

“Huh?” he asked dumbly.

Stuart smirked. “Well, you’re obviously not here. Where’d you go, locked in that loon’s mind of yours?” He shook his head. “Never mind. I probably don’t want to know.”

Vince could see the smile lingering still, and he knew Stuart wasn’t serious. “Always taking the piss, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Course,” Stuart told him. “What else is there to do?” Leaning back on his desk, he lowered his eyes and looked up seductively through his eyelashes.

“I’m sure we could come up with something,” Vince teased, falling into the game. He stood up to gather his own papers.

Stuart pushed off his desk and into Vince’s personal space. “Mmmm. I’ve got an idea or two,” he breathed into Vince’s ear.

Vince closed his eyes, remembering how much he had wanted this as a lad. How much he still thought about it, truth be told.

But this wasn’t how he wanted it. He was an all or nothing type of bloke. “Too bad you don’t do boyfriends,” he reminded Stuart, maybe a bit too harshly. “Could be fun.”

 _Could be brilliant,_ he thought silently.

“Could be,” Stuart said softly. He backed away from Vince, almost seeming to retreat back to his own desk.

“I ought to get going,” Vince said, suddenly uncomfortable with the situation. “Let you work.”

He looked back at Stuart, who was just staring at him, obviously waiting for him to go on.

“It you’re free tonight, maybe you could come to mine. I’ve a great take-out place just down the street - they make fabulous curry. You still like curry, don’t you? It was your favorite when we were boys, right?” He knew he was babbling. He couldn’t help it. “We could get some curry, watch a video - it’d be nice, yeah?”

Finally, Stuart’s stoic mask broke into an amused smile. “I’ll be free around seven,” he said simply.

“Good. Great. Brilliant,” Vince said, relaxing. He wrote down the address of his flat on the back of a business card and gave it to Stuart. “Here. Call me when you’re leaving and I’ll call in for the curry. I’ll see you later.”

“Can’t wait,” Stuart said flippantly.

Something changed in Stuart’s expression; he suddenly became more focused, more like that bundle of nervous energy Vince remembered from his youth. He moved from his desk and back into Vince’s personal space, putting one hand on Vince’s cheek. “And Vince?” he growled. “Could be _perfect_.” He pressed in for a quick, bruising kiss.

Before Vince could react, Stuart walked past him and out of the office. By the time Vince got his wits about him and followed, Stuart was gone.

...

Vince sat on one end of his couch, still feeling a bit of a shock over the fact that he was watching Dr. Who.

Imagine! Stuart had come to his flat and actually asked about the Doctor - asked to watch a particular episode, even. The first one Vince had shown him, so many years ago.

Vince couldn’t believe he had remembered, and had been powerless to do anything but natter on about the details of episode, and find it in his collection before putting it on. Stuart had watched him the whole time, curled up on the couch as he was with a plate of curry and a bemused smile on his face.

What was he like? First the ‘perfect’ thing, and the kiss, and now this - what was going through Stuart’s mind, Vince wondered.

“I’ve missed this,” Stuart said softly as the credits began to scroll.

“What?” Vince asked, not sure he had heard Stuart correctly.

“This,” Stuart said, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Dr. Who. Take out. Domestic _shite_.”

“I’m sure,” Vince chuckled. “It must be so exhilarating after that boring life in the London scene - shags every night, lining up at your door, I’d bet. Must be such the tedious existence.”

“Twat,” Stuart teased.

“Prick,” Vince shot back.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Stuart told him. “It was more fun when you were around.”

“Course it was,” Vince said, surprised by Stuart’s admission, and not a bit annoyed at the fact that Stuart was obviously playing with him. “We were just boys then, yeah? Young lads - everything’s more exciting when you’re that age.”

“That’s not the reason,” Stuart said flatly. Vince could tell he was reaching the end of his patience. Vince was, too - he wasn’t so dense that he didn’t understand Stuart’s meaning, but he knew enough to realize that he couldn’t be serious.

 “What is, then?” Vince asked. “They’re just shags, then and now. It’s just now, you’re experienced and they get a bit monotonous after a while, don’t they?”

“Fuck!” Stuart said. He was suddenly across the couch, pinning Vince down, their faces inches apart. “I’m trying to tell ye something here, Vince,” he growled. “You. You are the difference. My life - whole huge world - is fucking _shite_ without you. Always was.”

“Then why not write? Or call? You abandoned me, Stuart,” Vince reminded him angrily. Reminded himself as well - he was tempted to forget about all that and kiss Stuart senseless right there when he got all impassioned with that Irish brogue of his.

 “Fucking twat. Don’t you get it? I had to,” Stuart said. “There was no way I could go on with my life with you there, all the time, waiting to get back here. I thought it would be easier to let you go.”

“Was it?” Vince asked, narrowing his eyes.

Stuart dropped his eyes and sat back, away from Vince, when he heard the question. “Not even a little,” he admitted softly.

Vince shook his head sadly, trying to think past his initial frustration and confusion. “Then why didn’t you just call once you figured that out? Hazel hasn’t moved - hasn’t changed her number in decades.”

Stuart kept his eyes averted as he silently chewed his thumbnail, looking for all the world like a dejected little boy.

Looking at him, Vince didn’t need an answer. Of course Stuart wouldn’t call him. Of course Stuart would be a proud bastard and put them both through Hell before he came crawling back to Vince with a possibly unwelcome call or letter. Especially if he decided this after Vince had stopped calling or writing - after all, Stuart Jones did not do apologies.

Vince could kick himself for not seeing it back then. But then again, that was when he was still a lad with major self esteem issues. Of course he would have blamed himself.

Vince let his expression soften as he reached out and took Stuart’s hand from his face. “It’s done, yeah? In the past? We’re back now - mates again.”

“Just mates,” Stuart said, squeezing Vince’s hand a bit.

“Best mates,” Vince affirmed, not sure what else to say. He pulled Stuart back toward him, settling them so they were both lying on the couch, face to face on their sides.

“It’s still not enough,” Stuart said, moving one hand to Vince’s waist to stroke the exposed skin between his shirt and trousers.

Vince closed his eyes for a moment, wondering if he was ready for this. If Stuart was ready for this - they hadn’t been the last time they saw each other.

But they had both grown up a lot since then. Vince had the feeling that Stuart had grown almost as much as Vince had - that beneath that bastard exterior was the loving soul Vince had only seen glimpses of when they were boys. If they weren’t ready now, they never would be.

“What would be?” Vince asked.

“Everything,” Stuart said, letting his hand travel up under Vince’s shirt.

Vince put his hand on Stuart’s wrist, keeping it still. “I don’t do one offs, Stuart. I only shag for the real thing. You don’t do boyfriends.”

“I’m willing to make an exception,” Stuart told him. He leaned over to kiss Vince lightly, only giving him the briefest taste before pulling away again. “What do you think, Vince? Ready to give us a go?”

Vince smiled and put one hand on the back of Stuart’s neck, pulling him in for a long, deep snog. It was like coming home.

Then again, for him, Stuart had always been home. And for the first time in too long, they were both home.


End file.
